Mental Funhouse
by byebyepond
Summary: Amy Pond wakes up in 1945, safe from the angels and with Rory again. But she realizes that he has no recollection of anything that has happened when travelling through time and space. The question remains: is he the mad one, or is something wrong with her? Disclaimer: I don't own DW or any of its characters. Rated T for mental illness and because I'm being safe.
1. Vision

**Hey you guys! So here I am with more confusing DW fanfiction. Tell me with views or reviews if you enjoy, or if there's anything I should change! Thanks! **

"Amy… AMY…. WAKE UP!"

Rory shook his wife awake. She was thrashing and screaming and crying, which was very unlike her. Amy never cried.

"Amy, what's going on?"

His wife suddenly opened her eyes. "Rory, you're okay!" She pulled him into the biggest hug, even bigger than the one after they were married.

"Yeah, I'm fine… why?"

Amy frowned and looked at him. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"New York, the angels, River?"

"Amy, you just woke, up. Let's get you some tea." Rory took her hand and began to bring her to the kitchen, but Amy pulled away.

"Rory, you died. Twice. And earlier, when we were younger, but why…."

"You were asleep, Amy. It was all a dream. Just a dream."

"No. I saw it! I felt it! I… I cried."

"It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare."

"But—"

"Let's get you some tea."

Amy followed Rory into the kitchen, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that he didn't remember it. You can't just _forget _an event like that.

Rory put a cup of tea and some toast in front of her and sat down opposite her. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"What year is it?"

"What?"

"Right now, Rory. What's the year?"

"1945."

Amy's eyes became wider.

"Tell what happened, Amy!" Rory was getting impatient.

"Well, it was 2012—"

"2012! Blimey, and you thought this was real?"

"Rory!"

"Sorry, go on."

"And we were in New York. And there were these… stone angels. And they moved every time you blinked."

Rory shuddered.

"And one touched you. And when it touches you, it sends you back in time. So it sent you to 1938. April 3. And we met our daughter, River Song —"

"We had a daughter? And we called her River Song? Some nightmare…"

"Anyways, she got me to 1938, where we jumped off a building to create a time paradox that would erase the angels from Manhattan. Oh, and the Statue of Liberty moved."

"You said I died twice?"

"Yeah, you were sent back before and we didn't rescue you so you watched yourself die… I got a bit lost at that part. Oh, and we woke up in a graveyard in 2012 again and you saw your own gravestone, so the angel touched you because you had to die once you read that you were dead. And then I sacrificed myself to be with you and I woke up in bed. Here. In 1945."

"I think I've heard quite eno—"

"Oh, and there was this book that said everything that was going to happen. It was written by River. Oh, and there was this… man."

Rory was suddenly more interested. "A man? What man?"

"He was our friend. He… wore a bowtie… and had flippy hair… and I think he was River's husband."

Rory relaxed. "Just a friend, then?"

Amy frowned. "Who was just a friend?"

"Um, the bowtie man. River's husband. You were just talking about him!"

"No, I wasn't. What are you saying?"

Rory didn't know what was going on. It was too much for the early hour.

"Let's get you back to bed, okay?"

Amy willingly went back to sleep, leaving Rory to ponder what the hell was going on.


	2. Opinions

**AN: Thanks so much for all of the views! Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

A couple of weeks went by, and Rory didn't detect any more suspicious behavior from Amy. His job at the local hospital was going fine. Well, as fine as it could, in the aftermath of a war.

It was June 26, and, to celebrate their wedding anniversary, Rory bought Amy a typewriter. "For you to write all of your Opinion articles on," he said, smiling.

Amy looked at it with determination. "Oh, I'm putting this to a much better use than opinion articles." She smiled. "I'm going to write a detective novel."

And that was the last Rory saw of her for a few days.

She stayed in the sewing room, mostly. Rory assumed that she ate when he was at work. On Day 4, however, Rory wanted to see her.

He knocked twice.

Nothing.

Twice again.

"Come in."

Rory entered to see the room scattered with paper. The bin was full of crumpled up papers, and Amy had a stack of typed pages next to her on the desk.

"Can I?" Rory gestured to the pile. Amy nodded, not looking up from her work.

He picked it up. "Melody Malone, sole owner and employee of the Angel Detective Agency. Also know as the detective that investigates angels." Rory shook his head. "When is this thing set?"

"1938." Amy didn't look up from her typewriter.

"But that's the same year as…"

"Well, what do you think this novel is about?"

"So where is this Melody Malone in your dream?"

"She's River Song. Figured I'd change the name to avoid confrontation."

"Amy, you do know that River Song isn't real, right? We… don't have children."

"Yeah, we do." Amy stopped typing and stood up. "I gave birth to her."

"Amy, you…" Rory took a deep breath. "We've tried, remember? It didn't work."

"Yeah, well, maybe YOU don't remember her, but I do."

"All right. Well, I'm just going to, erm, leave you to your thoughts." Rory slowly backed out of the room and shut the door behind him.

_I'll give it a few more weeks. See if she wants to publish the book. See if she still believes that this actually happened. See if it's just a coping mechanism for Luke… _Rory jumped out of his thoughts. Luke!

He burst open the door. Amy was barely perturbed by it, and continued typing.

"Amy, do you remember, Luke? Your brother?"

"No. I don't have brothers. Or sisters."

"But this is Luke we're talking about. Do you remember anything?"

"I don't know who Luke is." Amy looked Rory straight in the face. "I'm sorry, but I don't."

"He died, Amy. He died in the war."

"I'm sorry for this Luke and his family, but I don't know him."

"Okay. Good luck writing." Rory left for the kitchen and made himself tea.

He had only just set his tea down when Amy came running into the room. "I remember him. I remember Luke. My brother. We lived with my aunt. He went off to war the second it started. And he… died last year."

Rory was relieved. "Good, I thought you'd forgotten for a second."

"Me too." Amy truly laughed for the first time in a week or so. "I'm writing this book. Not exactly sure where I got the idea from, though."

It was a mad world.


	3. Escape

**Hello lovelies xx I have finals this next week so here's the second chapter of the two that I am uploading today. Enjoy! Leave a review if you want— you'll get thanks in the next chapter, if it's harsh/mean (I appreciate criticism.)**

Amy finished the book in a week.

300 pages of a dream, which, according to Rory, couldn't have lasted more than five minutes.

It was crazy, and mad, an experience out of a children's nightmare. And terrifying. Absolutely petrifying.

Still, Rory went to the local post office to mail the print off to the nearest publisher in London. A week later, the Ponds received a letter; the book was being published.

Amy couldn't contain her excitement, and, good thing for Rory, she talked about her book, not her dream, whenever she discussed the now-infamous story.

"Now everyone will know! My story! People will talk about my characters, everything. This is so cool!" She was acting like an over-excited five-year-old, something Rory hadn't seen her do in a while.

He was so thankful for it.

Once day, they received another letter, asking them to come to London and check out the publishing company. According to the letter, the publishers were quite excited about the book.

"'It seems like a very exciting and intriguing plot, and we're sure it will sell phenomenally.' Wow, they actually like it; they like it a lot!" Amy was overjoyed.

"It says here that the travel, hotel, and dining expenses are paid for. Thanks for writing such a great book, Amy. We can have a vacation!"

Amy hit Rory playfully on the shoulder. "You can thank me once we get there, stupid face."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

They arrived in London the next Thursday. It was like a breath of fresh air. The people, the view, the constant movement.

It was a getaway.

The Ponds had a few days before their meeting with the publishing company, so they spent their time walking around, eating in small cafés, shopping for posh clothing that they may only wear once, riding around in a beat up old taxi.

This was living; escaping from life.

But it was Monday soon enough. That morning, Amy got up very early, took the rollers out of her hair, and put on her best dress, one she had bought the previous day. It was red and flowing, and she had paired it with a trench coat like the one Melody wore in her book.

Rory emerged from the bathroom a few minutes after Amy had started to make tea in the hotel-provided pot.

"Ready to go, mister?" Rory was wearing a brown, pinstriped suit that, in Amy's opinion, made him look even more handsome than he already was.

"Ready to go, ma'am."

She handed him a cup of tea, which they both took a second to drink, then followed each other out of the hotel and down the block.

The publishers were only three blocks away, so they were ten minutes early for their meeting.

"Feeling okay?" Rory asked Amy, who was fiddling with her hands.

"Yeah, just nervous."

"I'll be there the whole time," he said. "I'm not leaving you."

Amy remembered.

_He was a Roman. A Roman. She was dead. She was in a box, surrounded by light. _

_"2000 years," said a distant voice. She recognized that voice, but couldn't put a face to it…_

_"I'm not leaving her."_

_Rory was plastic, but it didn't mean he could last forever. _

"You okay?"

Amy snapped out of her daydream. "Yeah, just thinking."

"Time to go."

The meeting went swimmingly. The publishers, Miranda and Ralph, were very nice, and equally as excited about how the book would sell. They said it would only be a matter of time until it would be ready to go; by August or September, even. It was a perfect day.

Well, almost perfect.

The Ponds walked out of the meeting feeling confident, the prospect of prosperity lingering in the air, barely close enough to touch.

_Touch._

Suddenly, she saw it.

Sharp and grey, it was lurking on a street corner, on the side of a building. Its hands covered its face, and its wings curved in an almost holy manner.

An angel.

Amy screamed and hugged Rory.

"KEEP LOOKING AT IT. DON'T TAKE YOUR EYES OFF IT, KEEP STARING!"

Rory hugged her back, but said, "What am I staring at?"

"The angel! The stone angel, there, on that corner." Amy pointed at the said corner.

"Amy, love, there's nothing there…"

"I see it, I see it, I… cannot… blink." And immediately after she said it, naturally, she blinked.

And screamed.

"OH MY GOD IT'S RIGHT THERE."

"Where?"

"RIGHT IN FRONT OF US." Amy put a hand out to stop Rory from walking forward. "You can't move, just stare... please."

People were starting to watch them now.

"Amy, there isn't anything there. It's okay, you're just… nervous. Seeing things. Think about Melod—"

"RIVER ISN'T HERE NOW, DUMBASS. SHE CAN'T HELP."

Rory was hurt. It wasn't her, but it still hurt.

"Amy, I'm sorry, but we've got to go. Think of Luke. Think of the bowtie man."

Amy shook her head. "Bowtie man… BOWTIE MAN, YOU CAN'T HELP US NOW. COME ON, DREAM MAN, WHERE ARE YOU NOW?"

"Amy, he's not here."

Amy shook her head again. "Who isn't?"

"The bowtie man."

"What bowtie man?"

"We just— oh, never mind. Can you still see the angel?"

"Angel? Silly Rory, those are just in my book."

"Right, love, sorry."

They went home immediately.

And the minute they got back to their house, Rory turned to her.

"Amy, I love you, and I'm really, really sorry about this."

"About wh—"

A sharp pain, then everything went black.


	4. Mind Bending

**AN: Thanks a bunch to Laughy-Taffy the Grape and tumblr user laduelliste for being awesome:)**

**Most of my finals are done, so here is a chapter to celebrate!**

**Thanks also to all of my readers, whether you only made it through chapter 1 or have stayed until now. I really do appreciate it.**

**This story'll be about 6-7 chapters long. **

**Enjoy! **

_His hand was pressed against the other side of the glass window- she was locked outside the blue box. Her older self. But she was the same person. Just… not to him. Not really. _

She woke up in a white room.

Her hands and feet were bound to a bed, and she was in a white gown.

There was nothing else in the room except for a small window with bars on it, a dresser, and a door.

She screamed.

"WHERE AM I? WHAT IS THIS PLACE? WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN ME, RORY? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

She heard footsteps outside. There must've be a hallway behind the door. Were there more rooms? More people?

A hand. On the little glass window in the door.

His voice. "It's okay, Amy. You're… you're safe here."

"Rory?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Amy breathed a sigh of relief. "Come in!"

"I can't. I'm… not allowed."

"Why not? Where am I, anyways?"

"You're in a hospital. A, erm, a mental ward."

Amy stopped. "Why? I'm not mental."

"Amy, you were seeing things. Your book, you got the idea from a dream you had. It changed you. It made you very different. I… didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry. I really am."

"Is that why you punched me in the face?"

"You weren't going to come willingly."

"Spoken like a true husband of a Scot. Well done, Arthur."

"Did you just call me Arthur?"

"Yeah. It's your middle name. Figured it'd be about time I treated it like a name, not just something you put on legal documents."

"All right, Amy. I'm, uh, going to leave now."

"RORY YOU STAY."

"I've got to get back to work!"

"Fine then, but can you at least get someone to unbind me? I'm not going to hurt anyone."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Well, if I actually _am _in a mental ward, then can I see my psychiatrist that I assume I have?"

"He's not in today, but I'll send you an assistant."

"I love you."

"I miss you, Amy. I'll see if I can get them to unlock this door. This is no way to keep up a marriage."

She heard him leaving and sighed.

A few minutes later, a rather short brunette girl in about her 20s opened the door with a pot of tea and some books.

"Hello, Amelia. My name is Clara." She began to unlatch the cuffs on Amy's hands and feet.

"Call me Amy, please."

"Well then, Amy. I'm filling in for your proper psychiatrist, but I've brought some things for us to go over, as well as some tea." She gestured to the pile.

"You sound really familiar," she said. "Tell me, do you like baking?"

"Yeah, but I'm rubbish."

Amy noticed the metal bracelet she was wearing. It was gold, with bronze hemispheres on it…

_There were people here._

_As much as that voice that followed her denied it, that they were just the monsters, the Daleks, there were people. Right in front of her. _

_"How many Daleks straight ahead of me?" she heard the voice say in the distance._

_"Ten. Twenty. Hard to say." It was that woman over the intercom, or whatever it was. Oswin, the Carmen girl, soufflé girl. _

"You're Oswin!"

The assistant's eyed widened, then reduced back to normal size. "No, my name is Clara. I like opera, technology, and baking souf-"

"I knew it! You're a Dalek! But you're dead! How, _how, _can you be here?"

"All right, let's move on. How about your family, yeah?"

"My mum and dad live a few hours south, and my brother…."

"What about your brother?"

"I, I don't know. I just— don't remember."

"Tell me, Amelia. Tell me about your brother."

"It's Amy."

Clara leaned into her face stubbornly. "Tell me. About Luke."

"Oh yeah. Luke! He, erm, he died in the war. Last year. Right before it ended."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. What are those books you have?"

"Well, these are books Rory told me you'd enjoy."

Amy picked up the top one. "Pandora's box. And the Ancient Romans. These were my favorites as a kid."

_She knew him from somewhere. The Roman in front of her. But who was he? He was important, she could tell by the way he was looking at her. _

_She remembered. _

_"Rory Williams. From Leadworth. My boyfriend." She leaned in and touched his face. "How could I ever forget you?"_

"And, apparently, you like art." Reality was back in her head. Or, well, everyone else's reality. "This one is all about Van Gogh." Clara held up the book.

"I met him once."

"Really?" Clara's skeptical face made her very angry.

"Yeah. I… travelled there. After Rory died for the second time. Not in New York, but just in his, well, lifetime."

_"You're sad."_

_"No, I'm not."_

_"Then why are you crying?"_

_They were watching the funeral procession go up the road. The one Vincent blamed himself for. _

_Something was wrong. With both of them. It was like the one knew the other's problems more than they knew their own._

_The sunflowers shone almost too brightly through the dismal atmosphere of the sunny day._

"It was right before he, you know, killed himself. I knew it was coming. And he knew what was wrong with me, even when I didn't. He changed my life, that man. Helped me bring back Rory."

"Fascinating."

"Yeah. Shame about his life though."

"Would you care for some tea?" Clara nodded towards the teapot.

"I knew you were a Dalek."


	5. Plot Twist

**AN: BIG thanks to everyone, as always. This chapter gets pretty dark, so proceed with caution. Also, I will probably only have 1 more chapter. **

**There's a lot more personal touchy-feely stuff in here, which I, admittedly, sort of liked writing.**

**Enjoy!**

"You've got mail!" Rory announced, as he unlocked the door to Amy's room. The staff had given him a key, as he was part of the hospital.

"Oh my god, it's from the publishers." Amy looked down at the letter Rory had just tossed her. "What do you think it says?"

"I dunno. You're book's been in stores for a few weeks now. I wonder what they want…"

"A few weeks! I've been out that long? And my proper psychiatrist hasn't even shown up yet— it's just been that soufflé girl."

Amy tore open the envelope and began to read the letter out loud.

_"Dear Mrs. Amelia Williams,_

_It is with great pride and honor for us inform you that your book has made it to the top of the bestseller list in just a few short weeks. We had it rushed through publishing, as your original story had, surprisingly, zero errors. _

_You will be paid accordingly, but for now, we have hired you a publicist to handle newspaper and radio interviews, as well as any other needs you may have in terms of promoting your book. Her name is Marigold Kitzenger, and she has set up an interview with the BBC radio for you in a few days time, as they have suspended their television interviews due to the war. Be there around 13:30, and you will air around 14:00._

_Congratulations again on your magnificent endeavour. _

_Sincerely,_

_Miranda Hopkins and Ralph Jenson. _

Amy looked up at Rory, grinning. "Wow. Just… wow."

Rory was gaping at her. "I don't believe it. You did it!" He pulled her into a huge hug, the letter still in her hand.

They stayed hugging for a while. "I've missed you so much," Amy said, almost into his shoulder. "Don't they know that I'd never hurt you?"

"I guess they think they can keep us apart. Never, though."

"I love you."

"Love you back."

"Thank you. For everything you've done for me. For this book. Just… I really never could have done it without you."

"Thank me later."

"But it is later. We have money, we can do things! We can travel more, see the world, like you've always wanted to do."

"Yeah, I suppose so. But we've got to get you out of here first." Rory pulled out of the hug. "How're you feeling?"

"Pretty good. The headaches are less, the visions don't last as long."

"That's good enough for me. And hopefully for the doctors, too."

"How am I going to get out for this interview?"

"I'm pretty liked around here— I can pull some strings."

Amy kissed Rory. "Thank you so much."

"Goodnight," he said, and shut the door on his way out.

How Amy wished that she weren't lying to him. The visions were the same as always. And they never felt like visions. She could never tell what reality was.

So she found it best just to sleep and see where the dreams would take her.

-0-0-0-0-0-

"On air in 3 minutes, Amelia!" It was that woman, Marigold. Amy found it best never to listen to her.

She heard the announcer coming from the other room. "After this story, an exclusive interview with one of the newest and most imaginative authors, Amelia Williams!"

Amy smoothed her dark blue blazer. She knew that she didn't have to dress fancy for a radio interview, but she felt it necessary. Well, Marigold did.

She saw a man with red suspenders walk past her.

_Crimson. Eleven. Delight. Petrichor._

The mental ward had let her out just for today; although, as far as the media knew, Amy was never in one. It was all very private, and she didn't intend on anyone finding out.

"60 seconds, Amy!"

"Thanks, Marigold," Amy grumbled under her breath.

"Good luck, Amy," said Rory from behind her. He kissed the top of her head. "You'll be fine."

"Thanks." She turned around and kissed him quickly, then turned to face the door of the studio.

"Have fun!" Rory smiled at her when she turned around.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have Amelia Williams, author of the bestselling novel, Melody Malone!"

"Hello, everyone!" said Amy into the microphone. It was weird to think that she was talking to people so very far away. She didn't look at her interviewer.

"So, Amelia, how did you get the idea for this book?"

"Please, call me Amy. And, I dunno, it just sort of, came to me." She still didn't look up.

"Like in a dream?"

"Well…" Amy finally looked up at the woman across the table. Her eyes widened.

She remembered.

How could she have forgotten?

Where she got the idea, the travelling the people, River, Rory dying, the dinosaurs, the Daleks, Vincent Van Gogh, the eye-patch lady, everything.

_The eye-patch lady._

"Oh my god." Amy was not calm. She was the opposite of calm.

Kovarian was sitting across from her, asking her questions about a dream that was real.

"YOU!" Amy was yelling now. She was done. This woman.

"YOU STOLE MY DAUGHTER. YOU DESTROYED HER CHILDHOOD. I'D GO AS FAR TO SAY YOU TORTURED HER, YOU STUPID BITCH. HOW DARE YOU, HOW?"

The woman looked very taken aback. Her eyes were darting around the room.

"How—what—I don't—"

"KOVARIAN. HOW CAN YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF, TAINTING AN INNOCENT GIRL. HOW. DARE. YOU. YOU OWE ME. I THOUGHT I KILLED YOU. GUESS I'LL HAVE TO TRY AGAIN."

Amy picked up the chair she had been sitting on and threw it at the interviewer's head, making a large gash and knocking her off her chair with a scream.

Rory and some security burst open the door behind Amy, who was trying to beat up the interviewer, yelling and cursing. The guards wrestled Amy while Rory went over to the woman, who was now unconscious.

Amy felt a sharp pain across her head and fell.

-0-0-0-

When she woke up, she found herself the last place she woke up— in that same room with the same window and dresser and door, which she assumed was locked.

She wasn't cuffed to the bed, which she found very interesting. However, there were marks on her wrists, so maybe she had been. But she couldn't remember.

She had tried to kill her interviewer. But why?

Amy sat against the back of the bed and pulled her knees into her chest. Why did none of this make sense? What was happening? Why did she have to write this book? And why, why, was she stuck in the middle of all of this?

Amy put her face in her hands and broke down crying. She never, never meant to hurt anyone. It was almost like there was this fighter inside of her that only came when she had a vision, or what everyone else perceived as one. Why couldn't she tell the difference between her reality and everyone else's? And why did they have to contradict each other so much?

She looked up and over at the dresser across the room. The knobs were held to the dressers with screws. But who made those screws? Why were they fashioned the way they were, when they were? Why did the cabinet company use those specific screws? And why, why, did she manage to get this particular cabinet with these particular screws?

All she knew was that Frankenstein looked great with a screw in his throat.

Just as she was beginning to unscrew one of the knobs, she happened to glance over out the window in her door. Amy saw Rory watching her. Their eyes caught for a moment, his very sad, and Rory turned and walked away.

_You can't do this, _said a voice inside her head. _Rory needs you. You need him. You and Rory, together. Like it should be._

But the escape.

It was like running so far and so fast and never knowing where you were going next. It was pulling a lever and going anywhere, anywhen. And you never knew what or whom you might run into.

What was she going to choose— the escape, or Rory?

She had made this decision before. And where had she landed? Here.

So she chose the escape.

Just as she had the screw out of the knob, the door burst open.

"Sorry for the massive delay, got stuck somewhere in the 1800s on the lost moon of Poosh. Found it ages ago, but still. I'm here now. Hello, Amelia Pond. I'm your psychiatrist."

Amy's head was imploding. She was falling out of reality, but it was like an arm was pulling her back up into it, but she was still falling, but it was still pulling, falling, pulling, split. She couldn't be in two worlds at once.

She remembered.

"Doctor?"


	6. Pond Paradox

**Hello! So, once again, I'd like to thank everyone for everything. Reviews, views, general feedback here and on tumblr (you know who you are xD) are greatly appreciated aka i love you guys so much and thank you for everything 3**

**This chapter took me ages to write because it's VERY confusing. To me, at least. If you're confused, leave a review or PM me and I'll see if I can try to explain it better to you. It's very moffat-esque space-wacey timey-wimey so fair warning.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**I lied last time, there will probably be once more chapter after this one.**

**xx**

"Oh, Pond, I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry." The Doctor came over and kissed Amy's head. "You shouldn't have ended up here. You're in the wrong place."

"What… what happened?" Amy's head was hurting. And she needed details.

"Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey. Doesn't matter. We need to get you home."

"Doctor!" Amy stood up and brandished the screw she was holding at him. "You tell me what happened. Tell me what's wrong with me. Because I tried to kill someone. And I wasn't myself. So it does matter, thanks. Tell me!"

"What were you doing with that screw?"

"Oh…" Amy looked down at the screw in her hand. "I, just, well, broken cabinet, it was on the floor, such."

"Yeah, but mental wards don't have cabinets with screws. Too much risk of—" The Doctor looked at Amy, whose eyes had began to water.

"Oh, Pond." The Doctor held out his arms, and Amy embraced him, sobbing into his shoulder.

"Sh, sh, it's okay. We're going to get you out of here as soon as possible."

Amy pulled herself together enough to be audible. "I can't tell anymore, Doctor. What's real. What's not. What am I supposed to believe?"

"Not what everyone else thinks is fake."

"What?"

The Doctor took a deep breath. "Your hallucinations, well. They are flashbacks, memories, illusions, if you want, that your mind has created. When you and Rory created that paradox, you deprived the Angels of all of their time energy. That angel that zapped you here shouldn't have existed. The paradox should have been enough to kill all of them. But something brought that other angel back."

"What was it?"

"I'm still working on it. But, anyways, zapping you back created a secondary timeline that shouldn't have existed, but did because someone brought that angel back."

"Someone?"

"Like I said, working on it. Anyway, you had that dream the night you were zapped. Your mind couldn't handle two different times at once: the timeline that existed after the angels and the one that would have existed if you hadn't gotten zapped. I like that word, zapped. Going to use that one more often."

"So, my mind had two different timelines in it? So why could I only remember my adventures with you only sometimes? And why could I not remember this life right here when I was thinking about my dream?"

"Like I said, your mind couldn't handle it. So your brain chose the seemingly more logical one to be most dominant. Except for when your brain was slightly less active, such as when you were sleeping or daydreaming. You'd get these visions that no one else could see. They were only in your head."

"But what about Clara? And Kovarian? And Rory? They looked like the same people from my dream but they weren't. They had lots of the same memories but not all of them, especially Clara."

"Poor copies— the switch between parallels may have been rough on your brain, so some of the original information was lost. But this parallel, Amy… you created this. In your head."

"So it's not real?"

"No, no, it's real. But your head created it around your life."

"So, let me get this straight. I am sitting in a reality that I created because I was sent back in time by a rogue angel that consists of what my life would have been like if I hadn't met you, and if I lived in this time period. It's full of people that I had met or walked by on the street. And it's entirely created from the memories in my head. But I also have my adventure timeline in my subconscious, so when my brain was not fully awake, I got these visions which were actually memories from my adventures. But why couldn't I remember some of them? Like, sometimes, I couldn't remember you, even after I was just thinking about you, and after I was thinking about the TARDIS, I couldn't remember my "normal" life. Why?"

"Your timelines were all messed up anyway. You may have skipped forward or backward by milliseconds every time you snapped out of one reality and into another."

"That sort of makes sense."

"Really? Because I'm not 100% sure of it. More like 75. Or 60."

"All right, Doctor, so what happens to me now?"

The Doctor kissed Amy on the top of her head again. "We've got to get you out of here." He started to walk towards the door, but Amy pulled him back.

"What about Rory?"

"About that…"

"What happened to him? Doctor, where's Rory?"

"Rory isn't here. The Rory that is here is a memory. He's not your Rory. He's not— I've got it!"

The Doctor jumped up and started talking very fast. "I still don't know who sent the angel, but that thing did it with the intention that you would forget your adventures with me. With you safely out of the way, they could target me and try to hurt me. But they knew you'd be too much of a threat, even trapped back in time. They knew that I could come get you, even if it would be dangerous. But, if you didn't remember me, I'd show up and you'd just walk right past. You'd never be a threat to them again. That happened to another friend of mine once… sort of."

Amy stood up. "What. About. Rory."

"Like I said, just a poor copy of him. The real Rory is stuck in the real 1945."

"And?"

"Amelia Pond. Time to have one last adventure."


	7. Final Farewell

**AN: So this is the final chapter of this story. Big thanks to James Birdsong, Amelia E. Grey, avasinclair123, jordan, and Laughy-Taffy the Grape for the reviews, as well as tumblr user laduelliste for all of her support.**

**This chapter took a while, as I planned how she got stuck in the other universe without planning how she'd get out. So here's a pretty simple, nostalgic ending that I felt Amy deserved. Much simpler, much less dramatic, but more meaningful. Sort of.**

**You'll see. Spoilers xD**

**Thanks for sticking to the end!**

**Enjoy! xx**

The Doctor grabbed Amy's hand and pushed open the door. They ran down the hallway and a few flights of stairs, and finally out of the exit.

"Just like the good old days, yeah?"

"Yeah," Amy said. She was getting sentimental, which shouldn't be considering the circumstances. Yes, she missed it, but she had given up this life for good in exchange for one of her own, and she didn't want to be caught in the middle again. She shook it off and asked, "Where are we going?"

"Back to the TARDIS."

"Can you get rid of this reality?"

"I think so. Just might be difficult. But once you've gone back, you'll never see me again."

"But I thought you could come visit in your TARDIS. Isn't that why the angels sent me back and tried to make me forget you? So that we'd never be in their way?"

They were at the TARDIS. The Doctor snapped his fingers, and the right door opened. Just like the first time. Except this was the last time.

"It's too dangerous," said the Doctor, once they were inside. "It could create a paradox, or rip apart New York. Or something else could happen to bring back all the angels, or some timelines—"

Amy was kissing him.

But it wasn't like the first time they kissed. It was merely a light kiss. Completely platonic, almost motherly, with just the right amount of care put into it.

"It's okay," said Amy, after she pulled out of the kiss. "This'll be goodbye. And I'll be done."

"One last run." The Doctor smiled and looked at her. "I said that to your daughter once. Oh, but spoilers."

"Not anymore. You can tell me anything. I'm never going to see you again."

The Doctor fiddled around with the controls a bit, then looked up. "Let's take advantage of it while it lasts."

He sat down on the couch and patted the space next to him, where Amy sat down.

"We're going to get you home. And I know just how to do it."

"How?"

"I'm going to bring you back to the graveyard."

"But that'll rip a hole in New York!"

"I'm going to get your daughter first."

He pulled a lever, and in a few moments, the TARDIS landed.

"Where are we?" asked Amy.

"Stormcage. River just came back from Manhattan."

"Okay." Amy started walking towards the door, but the Doctor put a hand on her shoulder.

"No," he said. "I have to talk to her. She thinks you're dead."

"Fine," Amy sat back down on the couch and watched as the Doctor left.

She was alone again.

"Funny," she said out loud. "I used to dream of this box. Funny how it almost became a nightmare. It almost ended like one, too."

She shook her head. "And I'm talking to a machine!"

Amy looked up. "It's almost like I made it all up. The Doctor, the TARDIS, all the places we went. It's almost like a dream, almost like—"

The TARDIS door opened, and the Doctor came running in with River's vortex manipulator. "Ready to go, Pond?"

"Ready!"

"We can't take the TARDIS, because it'll already be there, and having the same TARDIS in an area that is already fragile would be catastrophic. Which is why I got this." He held up the vortex manipulator. "It shouldn't damage the continuum too terribly. We need to get you to the graveyard, but you cannot be seen. There's bound to be another weeping angel somewhere in the graveyard, and you're going to have to find it and touch it. Without past me, River, or past you seeing."

"What about you? This version of you?"

"This is where I leave you."

Amy stood up and walked over to him. She kissed him on the forehead, just like she had done when he dropped her off at her house. Now, she was leaving him. d

"It's been a blast. All of it. Really. You saved me. You changed me. And I don't know where I'd be without you. So thank you."

"Amelia Pond." The Doctor was most definitely crying by this point. "This face's first face. You made it smile."

Amy laughed nervously and hugged him. "Farewell, Doctor."

"Farewell, Pond."

Amy pressed the button on the vortex manipulator and vanished from his universe.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

She ended up in that goddamn graveyard. That same, fateful graveyard. She'd always end up where it all ended.

She was behind an oak tree that was far away from the TARDIS. She was hidden.

Now, all she had to do was find an angel.

She assumed that, since the angels wanted to find her, it wouldn't be too difficult.

That statue! The tall one.

It was quite angel-like, and it overlooked the whole graveyard. It was far away enough from the TARDIS that she didn't cause a scene.

This wasn't how she imagined she'd go.

Quietly, with no bravado. Just a simple touch, and she was gone.

The first time she was zapped, now that was a dramatic event. But this time— she wasn't going to risk it. It needed to be done without drama.

It just had to, well, happen.

She arrived at the angel, which seemed to be staring her down. It wasn't the traditional weeping one, but its hands were close enough to its face that it could have been crying.

"All I have to do is blink, yes? And you won't mess around with my head anymore?" She was talking to a stone statue that was actually a psychopathic alien. No wonder she was taken into a mental ward in the other reality.

"Right then. Farewell, Doctor."

She didn't know what else to do. There was no one to thank, no one to say goodbye to, really. That was over. It all was.

Too much spectacle.

So she blinked.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

She hadn't moved when she opened her eyes.

She had only fallen to the floor.

But the angel in front of her was gone.

And, as she looked around, she saw less graves. Less trees.

"Amy?"

Amy jerked up. "What? Where… what… who?"

She was so discombobulated that she didn't even notice her husband at her side.

"Oh God, you're okay, you're fine." He kissed her on the forehead, just as she had done previously to another friend.

"What happened to me?"

"The angel got me, and I ended up there." He pointed over by the oak tree, which was tiny at this point in time. "And it was a few minutes before you arrived, but then you were just, well, zapped here. And you were out cold for so long, Amy. At least an hour, but I couldn't call for help here—"

Amy pulled Rory down so that he was sort of half laying on her and half kneeling beside her. She hugged him and began to sob into his shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe. He's got River. Everything's going to be okay."

"No," said Amy's voice, which was quite muffled. "I'm so glad you're here. I... I missed you."

"No, it's okay." Rory was very confused as to why she was so hysterical over the matter. "It's all back to normal now."

"You're all right, you're all right." Amy kept telling herself over and over again out loud. She felt like he had been miles and miles away, but he was right there the whole time. He was fine, she was fine, they were together. So why was she feeling so empty?

She was so sad and so happy at the same time.

The Doctor was gone. For her.

For him, she was gone.

But they were both all right. Both alive. Sort of.

It was all too much for her head, so she stopped thinking and fell asleep, still hugging Rory. This was where she belonged.

And now, dear reader, I talk to you.

For Amy never remembered her final farewell.

The Doctor never told her that she would forget. He granted her that bliss.

Her second reality was erased. You could say that this whole story was for naught.

But every story has the same ending, no matter how you get to it.

I suppose some call that fate.


End file.
